


Vicarious

by noahwhelk



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: M/M, PG-13, czelk, i watched jongens after coming up with this i swaer, swimming boys find each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 12:35:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7715137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noahwhelk/pseuds/noahwhelk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Best friends Noah Czerny and Barry Whelk-Moreno travel to Coeur d'Alene, ID annually to compete in the CDA Crossing open-swim event for credits at their college, Aglionby. On the trip they find more than just personal records.</p><p>(This sounds like a low-budjet porno.) (It's cute, it's long, it's czelk. What more do you need.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vicarious

Regardless of how anyone interpreted it, they were the kings of summer.    

"Barry!" Noah shrieked with laughter, "What are you doing!?" The teenager in question was climbing up one of the wooden stakes in the Coeur d'Alene lake that served as a barrier that separated where boats and people were supposed to go. Water dripped off of Barry's obnoxiously neon and ridiculously expensive swim trunks and onto Noah's face.   

Regardless of what anyone thought, the lake belonged to them.   

Barry launched himself off of the top of the pole. He plummeted toward the green water, yelling with exhilaration and delight. Barry landed right next to Noah and grabbed the latter's leg as he disappeared beneath the surface. Under the water, they wrestled. Their lungs were empty and sore by the time they rose to the surface; they gasped for oxygen and laughed, laughed, laughed.    

Regardless of what anyone said, they loved each other.   

Not in the cheesy movie way—no. They loved each other like the sun and the moon, like the fish and the sea. Their love, their friendship, was whispered in the breeze that pushed their hair from their faces, in the sun that beat on their backs and drove them homeward, in the water that pushed them to every imaginable limit.    

They were Barry and Noah. Whelk-Moreno and Czerny. Inseparable, unstoppable, unbeatable.    

The summer was their domain, the lake was their battlefield. They were kings, and together, they were wild.  

Anyone who watched felt a smile tug at their lips.   

Vicarious.   

—   

The water got in Noah's ears and mouth, but he kept swimming anyway. If he was going to beat last year's time, he had to train seriously every once in a while. He had the rest of the summer after the Coeur d'Alene Crossing to romp and play. Noah raised his head to take a breath and saw Barry's neon orange butt above the waves. He put his head back under the water and tried to concentrate at the task at hand: _Stay in your lane_ , he told himself. Noah cupped his hands and pushed the water behind him, using all of the force he had from his fingertips to his elbow. He kicked faster, stiffening his legs but keeping his feet floppy—like Michael Phelps did.    

The waves wiped Noah's energy out in about two minutes. The constant, involuntary jostling of his body was really working against Noah that day (he didn't sleep well the night before). _Michael swims in a pool_ , Noah reassured himself as he loosened his muscles and swam more comfortably. He watched the wildlife underneath him.   

One of the main reasons he preferred open water swimming to the Aglionby pool was because when he looked down, he was entertained. In the pool, the only thing to look at was the black line, and, if you were in the right lane, the penis someone drew on the bottom when the pool was drained. Swimming a mile in the lake was like watching a movie—schools of fish, churning seaweed, and hidden treasures—while swimming a mile in the pool was so boring that Noah did math to keep himself from going insane. Two times two equals four, four times four equals sixteen, sixteen times sixteen equals two hundred fifty-six, so on and so forth. Noah hated math.   

Noah took another breath and flopped his arm back into the water. He reached out in front of him and grabbed Barry's ankle, yanking him backwards. Barry flailed in protest, but stopped to tread water anyway. "What?" he asked.   

"We’re taking a break," Noah sighed and pulled his Michael Phelps designer goggles down so they hung around his neck.    

"You can't train with this many breaks," Barry sighed, for they had already taken three, "Do you think I'm going to stop to chat in the middle of the Crossing?"   

"If I pull your ankle, you god damn better," Noah responded with a teasing smile. Barry's stiff countenance softened with a laugh, and he reached out to ruffle Noah's hair.    

The two had been friends since the moment they met in their high school dorms. (Noah unlocked the door and opened it to find the room much more crowded than it had been when he left that morning. A strange boy was sitting on the once empty bed. "Who are you?" Noah asked. "Your conscience," the other replied. "We haven't spoken in a while." Noah smiled, "I'm Noah Czerny." "Is your family religious?" "No." "Oh." A pause. "I'm Barrington Whelk," the boy offered. "Yeesh," Noah responded, grimacing. "I know.") The encounter felt like decades ago, but in reality it had only been six years. They found they had many similarities (several of which they don't talk about, they always cause arguments), one of them being Coeur d'Alene, Idaho, which was a long way from Henrietta, Virginia.    

At the start of each summer, only a few days after they finished spring semester and another year at college, Noah and Barry found themselves on a red-eye flight bound for their home-away-from-home, Idaho. They always felt more like themselves when their days consisted of being foolish and working out along the long and beautiful shores of CDA Lake.    

"Pull me to shore," Noah demanded dramatically, throwing himself on his back and flipping his foot out of the water in Barry's direction. "I'm too weak to go on." Noah's display was both ignored by Barry and ruined by the fact that Noah's butt was neither as round nor as full as Barry's, and therefore did not allow him to float effortlessly.    

"I honestly don't know how you call yourself a long distance swimmer," Barry tutted.    

"Fuck you."   

"Love you too, Cowboy." Barry punctuated his statement by turning over and beginning to backstroke away from Noah, toward their favorite dock. He kicked water into Noah's ungoggled face. "Race you back!" he called with a smirk, and proceeded to take off. Noah groaned and kicked himself into a good pace and swam after his best friend.   

(Barry had been calling Noah "Cowboy" ever since he learned that Noah lived in rural Virginia, and therefore, by Barry's definition, rangled cattle and rode horses in his spare time. Noah, who had never touched a cow in his life, refuted this. It stuck anyway.)   

Barry wasn't a particularly smart student at Aglionby, but the teachers kept bumping his grades so he could keep qualifying to play sports for the school. He played so many, Noah didn't even bother to keep track; all he knew was that Barry was amazing at almost all of them, including swimming, and there was no way Noah could win this pointless race back to dry land.    

That didn't mean he wasn't going to try. Noah pushed the water and kicked from his waist. They had already gone on a run and weight trained that morning, and Noah's muscles screamed in protest as he pushed himself to at least catch up to Barry. He gasped for air with each breath, and every time he saw Barry ahead of him, sprinting in his calm way, to get to the dock.    

Predictably, Barry got there first and hoisted himself onto the wet wood. Per their routine, he squatted down, grabbed Noah's hands, and pulled him up. The two boys then collapsed onto the dock: Noah flopped on his stomach and Barry lying on his back with his legs half dangling off the edge. They laid in silence for a few minutes, panting.   

"I feel like getting drunk," Barry announced, still a little out of breath. "D'ya wanna hit up some parties?"    

It took Noah a moment to respond, and then he said, "Bear, I can't even stand up right now." He turned his head so he was looking at his best friend, his cheek smushed against the wet wood. Hair fell onto his face and his goggles pressed into his throat. "And it's like one P.M. or something. We're in Pacific time now, c'mon."   

Barry scrunched his face up in disapproval and put a hand behind his head to prop it up slightly. "Tonight then."   

With strenuous effort (Noah felt), Noah scooted closer to his friend, so he could whisper inconspicuously. "You realize we're not supposed to do anything stupid, right?" In response, Barry put a finger to his lips as his entire face contorted into an adorable smile.   

—   

Barry made Noah put on his best t-shirt and khaki's for the party. Barry himself was wearing jeans and a wifebeater that (Barry told Noah this was important) showed off his biceps (which were, Noah had to agree, quite impressive). It was dark outside, but that didn't say much for summertime in the Inland Northwest—it started to get dark at eight o'clock. At the edge of the trail that separated the neighborhood from the commercial CDA beach, a house was lit up and pulsing with energy and music.    

If this were Collegetown (Henrietta), Virginia, there would be multiple parties happening on a Friday night. If this were Virginia, Barry would drag Noah through two or three parties, and a series of beer and other questionable drinks would blend them all into one confusing experience. But this was Northern Idaho, and after twenty minutes of searching, this party was the only one they found.    

They walked in through the propped open front door, and red solo cups were pressed into their palms almost immediately. Some loud techno jam was emanating from all of the walls, it seemed, and Noah glanced at all of the unfamiliar faces as he sipped his drink. Barry grabbed Noah's arm and weaved them through the crowd and into what appeared to be the living room, and inserted them into someone's conversation.   

Parties were Barry's domain. Noah went for moral support and wingman-ship, but he didn't normally engage. Don't get the wrong idea—Noah wasn't a party-pooper, nor was he particularly sober. Noah drank as many drinks as were handed to him, and more than once he had found himself in a situation where he had no idea how or when he ended up there. It just wasn't Noah's desire, nor his role, to network. He would be perfectly content to stand at the corner of a room with Barry and play stupid drinking games all night, but that was "boring" and "antisocial" and " _so_ not cool."   

Tonight's chosen group was a squad of three girls: one with blonde hair, one with brunette hair, and one with dyed rainbow hair. They were all giggles and just about as beach bunny as Idaho could deliver. Noah took a large gulp from his cup. It was going to be a wild night.   

—   

When Noah woke in the morning, his cheek was pressed up against Barry's stomach, and a pool of drool dripped from his mouth and onto his best friend's wifebeater. He squinted his eyes from the pain in his head and started to sit up. A shockwave went through his skull and he felt, momentarily, like he was going to vomit. Noah carefully turned his head to take in their surroundings: they were back in the beach home they pooled their allowances to purchase, on the kitchen floor. The sink was running water and there was a half-eaten ham and cheese sandwich on a plate on the floor next to them. They were alone.   

It took Noah another couple moments to realize he was only awake because his phone was buzzing furiously in his pocket. He slipped it out and unlocked the screen. Six texts from his girlfriend, Melissa. He closed his eyes for a long blink and opened his messaging app.   

 _honestly? idk_ _y u_ _didnt_ _ask me 2 come w u 2_ _cda_ ,   

 _u 2 just go out & have fun and leave me behind_,   

 _ugh,_    

 _did u think I_ _wouldnt_ _see b's_ _ig_ _posts ?????_ ,   

 _& now __ur_ _ignoring me_ , and   

 _ok, rude_.   

Noah ran his fingers through his hair with a groan and slid his phone across the floor. He set his face back down on Barry's stomach and slowly drifted off to sleep again.    

When he woke up again, it was because Barry's phone was ringing, and Barry was shifting underneath him and swearing under his breath. Noah tiredly moved so his face was on his best friend's thigh instead. He was getting quite the cramp in his neck and his lower back, but he was too tired and had too much of a migraine to do anything about it.   

Noah listened to an angry, female voice on the other end of Barry's call, and then to the clatter of Barry tossing his phone to the tile floor. "Who was that?" Noah mumbled, his mouth mostly closed (it sounded more like "Mmmwoo uz daf?" to Barry, but he knew what Noah meant).    

"My new ex, Lindsey," Barry replied, putting his hand behind his head, and sighing with exhaustion. "Something about Instagram."   

Noah inhaled loudly through his nose and rubbed his eye. "Mel was saying something about that too."   

Both of the boys were too tired to think about _what_ was on Instagram, and how it could upset both of their lady friends. But before they could go back to sleep, Noah's phone rang from across the room. The ringtone was dogs barking, that meant his big sister Rachel. Noah made an exaggerated noise of disgust and annoyance and sat up. He crawled across the floor and answered the phone. He put it on speaker because he was too lazy to lift the device to his ear.   

"What?" he greeted.    

"I leave you alone for two minutes and you go making a fool of yourself on social media?" she lectured. Noah yawned.    

"Honestly, what is up with girls and Instagram this morning," Noah mumbled. His eyes were drooping closed.    

Rachel made an incredulous noise. "You _know_ Dad has that thing coming up, and you let Barrington post pictures and videos where you are drinking, among. . . other things."   

Noah heard Barry sit up at the same time his eyes shot open. "Oh, oh shit." He scooped up his phone from the floor and started loading the Instagram app. Images from the night before were slowly trickling back to him. Flaming shots. Beer pong. Spin the bottle.   

 _Spin the bottle_.   

Noah went to Barry's profile and looked at the posts. A blurry, ugly selfie of the two of them with their cups and sloppy drunk expressions. A video of some random kid chugging out of the beer keg. A video of. . . _oh_.   

Noah rubbed his eyes again and squinted at the video. Yep, that was definitely the two of them. "Bear," he said, but he turned to see his friend was already watching it.   

"You had your tongue in my mouth before our lips touched," Barry observed with a snort. Noah's face cracked into a smirk.    

"Psh, did you see yourself? You look like you're about to drop your pants." They looked up at each other and burst into laughter, induced in part from the alcohol still in their systems, but both halted abruptly because of the pain in their heads and the dryness of their throats.   

"Still here," Rachel's voice announced through Noah's speaker.   

"Oh, oops," Noah muttered, rubbing his temple. Rachel began to say something else, but Noah hung up on her. "You have to delete those," he winced to Barry.    

"Already done," Barry replied. After a moment, "Hey, Cowboy."   

"Hm?"   

"Did Mel break up with you?"   

"Nah. She just complained about 'missing all the fun.'"    

"Well, she was always the. . . uh, polyamorous type," Barry responded with a small sideways glance at Noah.    

"Or she's just a party animal freak like you," Noah countered. He sent Melissa a text back full of heart emojis as he spoke. After a moment he added, "You're a terrible kisser by the way."   

"Oh, shut the fuck up." Barry stood up and opened a cabinet to get out a bottle of Ibuprofen. "You don't remember a thing."   

Noah stuck his tongue out at his best friend and laughed as much as his headache would allow.   

—   

"Yes. . . _sí_. . _._ _bueno_ . Everything's okay. No, we haven't done anything stupid. _Así_ . Ok _aaay_. All right. _Buenas_ _noches_ _,_ _Mamá_ _,_ _te_ _amo_ ." Barry droned into his phone. The two boys were lying spread out over Barry's king-size bed. It was late at night, though neither of them was feeling particularly tired. They tried to find a movie to watch, but nothing seemed appealing, so they just resolved to aimlessly perusing their social medias.    

"But. . ." Noah whispered when Barry hung up the call, "we _have_ done something stupid."   

"Yes, but _Mamá_ doesn't need to know that." Noah put an offended hand on his chest.   

"How _dare_ you lie to your mom!" he play-lectured.    

"It's not lying, just. . . omitting information."   

"You said, and I quote, 'we haven't done anything stupid.'" Noah teasingly punched Barry's cheek. "Which is a plain lie."   

"Not necessarily," Barry continued in his smart-ass tone that Noah couldn't tell whether he loved or hated. "Because we had total control over the situation."   

"Really," Noah deadpanned. "We don't even remember anything, including the incriminating evidence you posted on Instagram."   

"I posted on Instagram?" Barry replied and pulled up his profile. "Because I don't see any posts." He clicked on the first few photos. "Nope, nothing from last night."   

"You're a liar," Noah repeated and stuck his tongue, very childishly, out at his best friend. Barry laughed under his breath and scooted up on the bed so his back was resting against the headboard. Noah turned on his side so he was facing Barry and propped himself up on his elbow so he could comfortably see his phone screen. Not two minutes into his repositioned relaxation, a text from Melissa popped up on Noah's screen.   

 _hey boo :*_    

Noah sighed. Texting Melissa was always super boring and Mel-centric. He got enough dramatic monologues from his little sister, Abby. _Hey_ , he responded.   

 _wyd_ _?_    

 _It's after midnight, Mel. I'm in bed._    

 _ok lol u_ _dont_ _need 2b an ass_    

 _I'm not even being an ass_    

 _do_ _u want_ _to see My ass??_    

Noah blinked, surprised, and wrinkled his eyebrows. _What?_    

 _i_ _was horny earlier &took some nudes, __dya_ _want them_    

 _I_ , Noah sent. _No_    

 _wow._ Melissa responded curtly. _what crawled up_ _ur_ _ass & __died ?_ _ur_ _being such a_ _dickface_    

 _I'm not being-// it's the middle of the night_    

Barry sighed dramatically next to him and tossed his phone onto the sheets. "The _moment_ I get comfortable, I have to pee," he announced and slowly sat up.    

"What?" Noah asked, because he didn't fully register the other's words. Then he did. "Oh, yeah."   

"What are you doing? You look like you're watching one of those depressing vegan videos you're obsessed with."   

 _keep telling_ _urself_ _that......sweetie_ , Melissa sent. Noah squinted up from his screen at Barry.   

"I'm not watching, I'm just on Twitter," he responded, a beat too late.   

Barry shook his head, doubting Noah. "Not judging or anything, but those things are sickening." He held up his hands, palms toward Noah in surrender and got off the bed. He walked over to the adjoining bathroom. When he closed the door, Noah shoved his phone under the pillow so he wouldn't be able to throw it across the room. He flopped forward, over the part of the bed that Barry was just occupying, and closed his eyes with a sigh. He spent a moment in salty reflection about how Melissa was so bipolar, and how he does nothing but try to keep her happy but he always does something wrong, et cetera, et cetera. Something buzzed under his hip, and interrupted his self-pity. He shifted and grabbed Barry's phone from underneath him and propped himself up on his elbows to look at it.    

The screen lit up with texts, each a new image. From Melissa. He unlocked Barry's phone (they knew each other's passcodes) and went to their text conversation. Three—no, now four—nudes from Melissa arrived, following a text from her saying " _thinking of u....[eggplant emoji]_ " Noah felt sick in his stomach. He scrolled up and found few normal ("how are you" "where are you guys" "noah isn't responding r u guys coming or what" "party @ 10pm b there, mel") texts, but mostly the conversation was full of blatant sexting.    

Noah felt his gag reflex react and, after hearing the sink turn on in the bathroom, he quickly scrolled to the bottom and deleted the recent messages from his girlfriend, locked the phone, and stuck it back under his hip just in time for Barry to walk out of the bathroom.    

Barry saw his devastated position and smiled endearingly. "Did the bad men keep the chickens in small cages?" he teased. "I told you, you have to stop watching those." It took a moment for Noah to find his voice.   

"I'm really tired, I think I'm going to head to bed," he said and slid off of the comfortable mattress. Barry's smile turned into a mild frown.   

"Wait, you can just sleep here," he said as Noah grabbed his phone and started to make his way toward the door. "The bed's big enough."   

"Nah, I'm just gonna. . . go. To my room. And—sleep." Noah patted the door frame as he left the large room and gave Barry a half-hearted and weird thumbs-up.   

"Okay," Barry responded, and then called after Noah, "Love ya!"   

He got silence in return. He just shrugged it off, writing it under Noah being tired. His phone lit up with a text message: Melissa sending him a long stream of cricket emojis. He let a small burst of confused laughter and picked the phone up. He responded with a bee emoji, then his phone died.   

—   

By the time morning came around, Barry was fully updated on the current situation. He had to decipher encrypted and melodramatic text messages from Melissa, but he pieced together enough to figure out that Noah probably knew everything, or at least a significant amount. He spent a long time lying in his bed, thinking of a way he could go and talk to Noah, or if he even should.   

When he heard the grandfather clock in the foyer strike eleven o'clock, he groaned and sat up. He supposed he should probably go and apologize. Upon entering Noah's room (whose decorating greatly contrasted Barry's broody, dark colored room with bright yellows, blues, and reds), he saw his best friend propped up under the covers with his iPad, connected to the device by earbuds. His face looked full of emotion, whether pride or sadness Barry had no idea, and Noah was fully absorbed in whatever he was watching. Barry almost turned to leave when Noah looked up to brush a tear from his eyelashes and spotted him.   

Noah felt a surge of panic in his gut that maybe Barry saw what he was watching, and quickly yanked out an earbud and paused _American Ninja Warrior_ (a cancer survivor was doing the course for her autistic little sister—heavy stuff full of the exact kind of human kindness that made Noah dramatically weep). He was so concerned about the show that he forgot _why_ he had to binge-watch his happy place to begin with.   

"What—yes, I was watching a great show with a completely sophisticated plot," Noah blurted and shoved the iPad under the pillow. "Did you need somethi—oh." In the middle of his question, he noticed Barry's confused—but guilty—face and the phone in his hand, and then he remembered he was actually livid at his best friend. "Yes?" he asked in an unamused and flat tone.    

"I, uh, well, you're busy so I should just come back. . ."   

"No," Noah responded, "I'm not busy. You can talk." He crossed his arms and sat up straighter on his bed. He supposed he didn't look completely serious and angry in the Noah's Arc Vacation Bible School t-shirt that Barry found at a GoodWill and race car pajama pants, but he had to make it work. (One of the first times Barry saw Noah in his pajamas, an ensemble of fuzzy polar bear pants and his Aglionby Swim Club sweatshirt, Barry commented, "I thought mega-rich people always wore matching pajamas." To which Noah replied: "I didn't choose the rebel life, the rebel life chose me.")   

Barry realized, in this moment, that he didn't actually have anything planned to say. "Er, I'm sorry you had to find out like that, or—at all. I mean, _mierda_ , I mean, I'm sorry I did it in the first place, _and_ that you found out how you did."   

Noah decided to be difficult. "Did what? You're being vague."   

"You know," Barry sighed. His cheeks flared red.   

"I want to hear you say it."    

Barry lifted his eyes to meet Noah's gaze. His eyes looked so big and ashamed, and Noah almost found himself feeling bad. But Noah didn't do anything wrong, he reminded himself. After a long pause where they held eye-contact, Barry mumbled. "I'm sorry I fucked your girlfriend."   

Noah squinted. "Wait a second: I just thought you two just like, virtually screwed me over. You're telling me you _actually_. . . Wh-oah man." Noah leaned his head back against the headboard. Barry stood in the doorway and felt really awkward. "How long?"   

"What?"   

"For how long did you two. . ."   

Barry heaved a big sigh. "Um, five, six months?"   

Noah squeezed his eyes shut. "Get out."    

"Wha—Noah, I—"   

"Leave. Get out of my sight, God _damnit_!" Noah wasn't sure exactly when Barry retreated, because he couldn't bear to look up and see Barry's pitiful face still looking at him. He kept his eyes closed for several minutes. Within the last six months, Melissa told Noah he was the first boyfriend she actually cared for. Within the last six months, Barry hugged Noah as the latter sobbed from the loss of his grandma and Barry told Noah that he would always be there for him. Within the last six months, Noah invested himself in those people, Lindsey included, and Barry and Melissa were lying the whole time. The sick feeling he felt in his stomach the night before was coming back.   

He reached under his pillow, and put his earbuds back in his ears and played his show. Then he cried (about the human kindness, of course).   

Four episodes of _American Ninja Warrior_ later, when Noah finally regained his composure, he stopped watching and picked up his phone. He hovered his thumb over Melissa's caller ID for a long time before his breathing evened out enough to press dial. She picked up almost immediately.   

"Hey, did Barry already tell you? I _do_ feel bad about it, you know. Even though it's practically your fault because I tried with you every time before I—"   

"We're over."   

"Wha—"   

"Done."   

"Noah—"   

"I'm breaking up with you."   

"You're—"   

"Goodbye, Mel." Noah hung up, tossed his phone on his nightstand, and pressed play. He felt a little better.   

—   

Fixing things with Melissa was one thing, he could just end it and not see or talk to her again. With Barry, well that was a different story. First of all, they lived together, and they were set to stay in CDA until the end of the summer. Even if he did fly back early, he wasn't going to afford missing the Crossing because of an argument. Then there was the fact that their families were supposed to come over in time for the Crossing and stay a month also. Barry's big brother, Stefano, will be able to sense their fake smiles from a hundred miles away (and he will not stop bugging them about it until he knows the absolute entirety of the story), which will be extremely uncomfortable.    

Therefore, the only solution was to reconcile with his best friend, no matter how pained and gross it made Noah feel. He had to be the bigger person.    

Noah got out of bed (he'd been in it all day) and got in the shower. He planned to go to Barry's room, or wherever he was in the house, and ask him if he wanted to get some dinner at Tito's. Then he'd tell Barry that he is upset and angry, and rightfully so, but he doesn't want this obstacle to ruin their relationship. It was all very mature, and Noah commended himself.   

He finished with his shower, put on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and went searching for Barry. The latter wasn't in his room, or any of the rooms for that matter, so Noah mildly began to panic. He had no idea when Barry left. He slipped on a pair of sneakers and grabbed his skateboard. It was late evening, so the sky was slowly fading into dusk. The lake was dark, but several people still flocked in it's waters.   

Noah rode passed the commercial beach—paid parking, pristine white sand, beach volleyball, lifeguards—and went further and further down the path until the pavement got a little rocky and trees started popping up on the side where the lake was. The beach dropped further below the trail. Noah skated until he approached a dock that had an odd patch of grass beside the entrance into the wood. He flipped his board up, jogged down the sandy drop to a grassy area, and then trotted across a small patch of sand and onto the dock.   

Walking down the dock, Noah didn't see Barry right away, and he felt hollow in the pit of his stomach. Finally, when he was three quarters of the way to the end, Noah spotted his dark figure sitting at the edge. "Bear," he breathed in relief.    

The other turned and looked at him and sucked his lips into his mouth. "Hey," was Barry's soft response. Noah closed the rest of the distance between them and sat next to his friend. Their feet hung off the edge, inches from the surface of the lake. Barry was wearing cargo shorts and a large cashmere sweater; he pulled his sleeves over his hands when Noah sat down.    

Noah stayed quiet for several minutes. He was mad at Barry, but sitting next to him and feeling his warmth eased the tension in Noah's chest a little bit. "Noah," Barry began, his voice barely over a whisper, "I really _am_ sorry. I didn't fool around with Melissa to be malicious or anything, I honestly don't know why I kept doing it. She—" Barry stopped himself before his apology started to sound like excuses.    

Licking his lips, Noah mulled over Barry's tone and his words. He knew he had to half-forgive Barry anyway, but it felt good to have a choice for a moment. In the end, he slowly lifted his arm and placed his hand on Barry's shoulder that was farthest away from Noah. Barry hesitantly leaned against Noah; Noah leaned his head on top of Barry's. The last time they sat like this was after Barry gained two seconds on his five hundred yard swim, and consequently did not qualify for sectionals. Noah had silently comforted Barry for thirty minutes, until the lights in the pool area shut off.   

Noah inhaled through his nose and remembered the speech he practiced in the shower. "I'm. . . I'm not going to lie, I'm really upset and I feel betrayed." He felt Barry shudder. "But. Our friendship is more important to me than a girl, and I won't let this get between us." Barry's shoulders relaxed. Noah allowed them a couple more minutes, and then reluctantly pulled away. "Now, I'm starving. Want to go to Tito's?"   

"Yes," Barry responded, though his word sounded more like a relief laugh-sob than anything else.   

After personal pizzas and Sprite, the two boys had gone back to normal, which was refreshing for both of them because it was unbearable when a fight lasted more than a few hours. They got back home in the late nine o'clock hour and play-wrestled until they collapsed in a flurry of light punches and fake crying on Noah's bed.    

When they calmed down, they moved to lay so they were on respective sides of the bed, resting their tired heads on the soft pillows. Noah asked, "Do you remember anything from the party?"   

"Nothing specific," Barry responded.    

Noah supposed he didn't either. He remembered motions, colors, and feeling Barry's hands on the small of his back, but nothing coherent. He hummed in response and turned on his side, facing the inside of the bed and Barry. "Why?" Barry asked and raised a suspicious eyebrow in his best friend's direction. "Do _you_ remember anything?"   

"Nothing specific," Noah repeated in the same tone as Barry had given the answer. Barry laughed softly.    

"I haven't gotten that shitfaced drunk in a long time," Barry remarked with a sigh. He turned over so he was lying on his stomach with his arms both out on either side—the arm furthest from Noah bent so his hand rested just above his head, and the other arm bent so his hand was in front of his face, which looked at Noah.    

"Don't make it a habit or you'll die from alcohol poisoning before you're twenty-five."   

"Live fast, die young, bad boys do it well," Barry mumbled, his eyes closing.   

"Oh, c'mon old man," Noah teased through a yawn, "it's barely ten and you're already falling asleep?"    

"Shut up, Cowboy," the older boy sighed and smiled. Noah reached to click off the light, and then they both laid in silence for a long time, though neither fell asleep. Noah let his eyes droop closed for a moment, then opened them again. He scooted close to Barry and nudged the arm closest to him. Barry lifted it up, allowed Noah to scoot closer, and then rested his arm over Noah's shoulder/neck area. Noah let out a content sigh. They'd slept like this many times before, usually when one or the other failed a test, and it always warranted Noah the most comfortable sleep. He closed his eyes and listened to the steady pattern of Barry's breathing.   

"I love you," he whispered.   

"Love you too," Barry responded, and then fell asleep.   

Many of the party's events came to Noah in a dream:   

When they refilled their Solo cups for the third time, Barry and Noah got swept into the main room where a large game of spin the bottle was beginning. Barry, ever the party animal, grabbed Noah's wrist and dragged him into the circle, drunkenly whispering, "Loosen up, Cowboy." His hot breath flowed over Noah's ear and neck and ignited a low fire in the pit of his stomach.    

After what seemed like a long time, it was Noah's turn to spin. He remembered, in a foggy haze, giving the bottle a calculated spin so it would land on the person next to him: Barry. It did, just as he knew it would (Noah hated math, but he was good at it). Noah didn't know why he did it, but the fire in his core lept and grew hotter when Barry let out a low chuckle and took Noah's chin in his hand. Noah's eyelashes fluttered, and he leaned in a little, amongst the drunk cheers of the party, but hesitated. Were they really going to do this? Rachel had kissed her best friend, Sandy, when they were freshman in high school, and three weeks later Sandy had a new best friend. Noah's breath caught.   

"What are you afraid of?" Barry slurred. For some reason, that did it. Both of them leaned in at the same time, and their lips crashed in a half-intoxicated, half-passionate kiss. Noah's tongue was in Barry's mouth, and the latter sucked on it and moved the hand that was cupping Noah's chin to press against the small of Noah's back (Barry was leaning on the other hand). Their chests touched, their lips were swollen, Noah's pants felt tight, and there was saliva dripping down his chin.    

Someone poured a bucket of ice water over their heads, and Noah woke from the cold shock.   

Apparently he jumped when he awoke because, inches from his own face, Barry also blinked awake, but barely. "¿ _Estás_ _bien_ ?" he mumbled and inhaled sharply through his nose. Barry often accidentally spoke in Spanish when he was tired or otherwise not fully paying attention. Noah used to get annoyed, but he got used to it.   

Noah watched Barry's lips as they moved (or didn't, because they both had a habit of barely opening their mouths when they spoke to one another. " _He_ understands," Noah once whined when Rachel ridiculed Noah for not articulating when speaking, "and I was talking to _him_.").    

"Er, _sí_ ," Noah responded after a pause.   

" _Tú_ _siempre_ _me_ _despierta_ ," Barry slurred crossly. Noah had no idea what he said.   

" _De_. . . _nada_?" Noah tried. Barry's nose wrinkled, but then his face relaxed as he drifted off to sleep again. Noah sighed and put his arm over Barry's side where it fit in the curve of his waist. He was asleep again in minutes.   

—   

By seven A.M., the two boys had already run up and down the entire CDA trail five times, putting several miles under their belt. The morning was crisp and slightly cold, which was something Noah adored about the Pacific Northwest. No matter how hot it got in the afternoon, the mornings were always nice and cool. Noah shivered as a breeze blew against his bare torso. The sweat that had accumulated at the small of his back seemed to freeze. The same breeze ruffled Barry's sweaty hair and pushed a few strands off of his forehead. Noah saw this, because he was running backward in front of Barry. There was one thing Noah was physically superior to Barry with: running.   

Barry motioned with his head, panting, for them to go down to the beach. Noah turned and weaved through trees and half-ran, half-slid down the sharp decline from the trail to the non-commercial beach. He skipped over the grassy break where people usually set up camp and barbecued. There was hardly anyone there at seven. They galloped onto the sand, and then Barry pushed Noah so the latter landed on his back in the sand. Sweat glued the sand to his skin. Barry, very smoothly, tripped over Noah's foot and fell on top of Noah, his knee unceremoniously landing on Noah's gut. Noah gasped sharply in pain, then they both burst into laughter.    

Their laughter faded into panting, and Barry fell on his side on the soft sand beside Noah. The waves flowed up and kissed the tips of their hair. They rested like that until their heartbeats returned to normal and their breathing became quiet once more. Noah was painfully aware of how close their hands were on the warm beach. He licked his bottom lip and then bit it and stared at the sky. People were starting to appear on the beach.    

"I have something I want to tell you," Noah blurted. Barry didn't respond for a moment, and then replied:   

"Me too, I guess."   

"I think I'm gay," Noah told Barry at the same time Barry stated: "I'm bisexual." Their heads turned to look at each other. They had a few confusing moments of "You are—I am—" and then went silent, searching each other's faces. Barry slowly turned on his side, keeping his eyes on Noah, and reached his hand for Noah's face and, at the same time, tentatively leaned his face closer to his best friend's. Noah's eyes fluttered closed and he inhaled sharply.   

"No-boy!" shrieked a familiar voice. Noah abruptly sat up, his eyes wide, and looked up to see his big sister skipping down the beach toward him. His face lit up and he scrambled to his feet just in time to catch Rachel in a big hug. He was several inches taller than her, so he was easily able to pick her up and spin her around.   

"Rach! What are you doing here? You're not supposed to arrive for another three weeks." He set her down and put his hands on her shoulders, suspicion in his voice.   

"We were bored, so we decided to surprise you?" Rachel responded and shrugged at the same moment Abby ran down the slope, nearly tripped three times, and then ran over to Noah with her favorite bag (Noah snarkily pointed out to Rachel many times that Abby liked _his_ gift better than hers every time they got into a scuffle about whose "Abby Idea" was better). Noah smiled fondly at her and ruffled her hair.   

Barry was standing up beside them, and he regretfully asked, "Wait, did my fami—"   

"Barrington, looking smart, as usual," Stefano cut Barry off with an incredibly snarky comment, making fun of the fact Barry was squinting into the sun and sighing dreadfully at the same time.   

"Oh _cá_ _llate_ _,_ _idiota_ ," Barry responded, wrinkling his nose in annoyance.   

"Barry!" his mom snapped, " _dejar_ _de_ _ser_ _difí_ _cil_." Stefano flipped Barry off behind their mom's back.   

" _¡_ _Máma_ _! ¿Has_ _visto_ _lo que_ _hizo_ _?_ " Barry quibbled and pointed to Stefano. Stefano smirked. Their mom threw her arms up in exasperation.   

—   

Without a second house ("It's being _remodeled_ , Barrington, you don't want us to sleep in a hotel, do you?" Barry responded to his mom with something along the lines of, "That would suit me," which resulted in a slap across the face), the parents filled up the office and the one spare bedroom, Abby and Rachel shared Noah's room, and (unfortunately for everyone) Stefano bunked with Barry.    

For the first several days, the house was bustling with frustration as all of the chores Noah and Barry neglected in their solitude had to be completed. ("We were _going to_ ," Noah whined to his mom, "but you all arrived early." She countered: "If you had practiced responsible habits this whole time, we wouldn't be in this mess." Mrs. Czerny looked at the sink full of dishes. "Literally.")   

Their morning runs didn't go unmolested, because Stefano insisted on joining them. ("I've decided to be healthy.") Needless to say, running was no longer relaxing or fun.    

The first time Noah and Barry got to be alone since that morning on the beach was an agonizing week later when they snuck out of the house in the middle of the night. They sat on the dock and looked out at the dark waters. Everything was silent and serene. Barry was certain he could see the little dipper, though he pointed in three different places, and Noah didn't see it in any of them. Noah had his jeans rolled up and his feet wading in the cold water, and Barry was lying on his stomach tracing his fingers in the lake.    

"So," Noah started after a period of silence.    

"So." Barry glanced at Noah, but then looked back at the ripples he was making. Noah stayed silent, because he was sure Barry would say something—Noah himself didn't know what to say. A moment later, Barry suggested, "Want to go skinny dipping?"   

"Er—naked?"   

"That's the definition of skinny dipping," Barry retorted and pushed himself up to his feet. He began to slip off his shirt. When he had it over his head, he looked down to see Noah looking up at him with an eyebrow raised and his lips pursed. "Loosen up, Cowboy," Barry told him with a smirk and tossed his shirt onto the dock. "What are you afraid of?"   

Noah burst into laughter and unbuttoned the buttons of his polo shirt so he could slip it over his head. "You _do_ remember, you asshole!" Noah threw his shirt at Barry. The latter caught it with a toothy smile and tossed into a pile with his own clothing. Barry slipped his jeans down at the same time Noah leaned back to unfasten his own.    

Barry rid himself of all of his clothes and took a running leap into the water. Noah experienced the brunt of the blast, and consequently had to peel his boxers from his skin. He slid into the water a moment later.    

"What if anyone sees us?" he asked and treaded over to Barry, who was trying to grab an annoying piece of seaweed.   

"They won't. It's like two A.M., Noah. Chill a little." His sentence ended with a grunt when Barry threw the seaweed as far away as he could. Noah allowed himself to smile and took a few slow corkscrew strokes. He felt liberated, and thankful that the water was dark because the frigid temperature was giving him some serious shrinkage. He watched Barry slip completely under the water, and come up several yards away, under the dock. Noah swam a lazy breaststroke and joined Barry underneath.    

It felt like a warped reality underneath. The already dark night got darker, and all nature noises were muted. Noah shifted his position so his feet touched the sand at the bottom of the lake. They stood at a place where Barry had to be on his toes, but Noah's feet sat flat.    

"I didn't think you were _gay_ ," Barry stated and shrugged with a slight frown. "I just thought, you know, anti-Mel. Anti-sex. Asexual?"   

"You know, Bear, being twenty-two and a virgin isn't a crime. It isn't even unusual."   

"I didn't mean like that, like, you barely even kissed her."   

"I'm sure you took care of that for me," Noah teased, which made Barry's face turn bright red.    

"I, uh—can you come closer? I can't, or I'd be floating."   

"I can barely even see you," Noah responded and took a small step forward. He extended his arm and made little splashes with his hand until his fingers collided with Barry's shoulder. Noah moved a larger step. He could feel Barry's breath on his neck, and, when his eyes finally adjusted, could see his best friend's face staring right back at him. Noah's hand dropped from Barry's shoulder. He licked his bottom lip.    

"Cowboy," Barry sighed.   

"Yes."   

"I love you."   

"I know."   

"But, like, like a lot. . . I—"   

"Just kiss me," Noah breathed. Barry grabbed Noah's elbow and pulled them a couple of steps toward the shore. Noah dropped his head in the process; their mouths met in the middle. The kiss was sloppy. Barry's fingers tangled into Noah's hair, and Noah had one hand around Barry's waist and the other cupping his jaw. Drool dribbled down their chins, Barry accidentally bit Noah's lip too hard, and their teeth clashed more than once. Barry breathed raggedly through his nose. Noah separated their lips and kissed and nibbled down Barry's jaw and to his neck.    

Barry let out a soft moan when Noah sucked on the skin on his neck in the fold between his neck and his shoulder. His hand slipped under Noah's arm and gripped the latter's shoulder, and stumbled on the loose sand. Consequently, their dicks rubbed against each other, causing Noah to gasp sharply against Barry's skin. Noah pulled away instinctively.    

"I—no," he hesitantly stated, moving so he was face-to-face with his best friend again. Barry flicked his gaze up to meet Noah's eyes. The latter's pupils were so dilated Barry could barely see their pale green color.   

"Yeah," Barry swallowed. "We should get back anyway." Noah nodded and separated them completely. He skulled backwards for a moment, and then turned over and swam up to where their clothing was. Noah could feel he was blushing down to his chest. Barry arrived shortly afterward and hoisted himself up onto the dock. He kneeled down and assisted Noah's climb. They dressed quietly.    

With their clothes clinging to them, and their bodies shivering with the breeze and the wind their skateboarding was creating, Noah reached out and took Barry's hand. Barry didn't even hide his grin. On the mile trip back to their house, it dawned on Noah they'd never actually held hands before.    

Barry unlocked the door with his key, and, before they parted ways in the interior (Noah's room was downstairs, and Barry's up), he leaned in and murmured in Noah's ear, " _Te_ _amo_ _con_ _todo_ _mi_ _corazón_." Noah flushed a deep red and slipped off toward the bathroom right next to his bedroom. Noah looked at himself in the mirror. His mouth looked and felt swollen and bitten. He sucked his lips into his mouth to stop the cheesy smile from taking over his face. Noah showered and slipped into bed next to Abby, who was snoring peacefully.    

Barry, on the other hand, went into his bedroom quietly, to avoid waking Stefano, only to find him sitting up on the bed with his laptop. Stefano looked up at Barry, and his face melted from one of mild worry to one of intense snark. One look at Barry revealed what he had been doing. Barry groaned and closed the bedroom door after him. He leaned his board against the wall.    

" _Por_ _favor, no le_ _digas_ _a_ _Mamá_ ," Barry whispered urgently. In response, Stefano just raised his eyebrows knowingly and put his tongue in his cheek.   

—   

"So, uh, Georgetown, huh?" Stefano drawled casually and dunked a teabag into his mug. He leaned over a chair at the end of the table and addressed Noah's big sister, Rachel.    

"Yeah," she responded and dropped her spoon in her (unusually large, Noah thought) bowl of vegan yogurt. Rachel wiped her fingers on a cloth napkin. "I'm in the process of getting a Master's degree in erotic ancient dance." Noah, who was standing in the middle of the kitchen with a cereal bowl in his palm, snorted on his spoonful.   

Stefano commented: "I've always been really interested in, um, the history of erotic dance."   

Rachel rested her elbow on the dining table and swirled her spoon in her yogurt. She shrugged one shoulder. "I know, right? I'm researching the connection of women's roles with the changes in erotic dance for my thesis project."   

"I would have never made that connection," Stefano flirted. "You're really brilliant, Rachel."   

She blushed. "Thanks. I'm sure you are too! What are you studying?"   

"Er, you know," Stefano, who had dropped out of college three months before, replied, "Romantic Spanish poetry. It's not as narrow of a topic as you might think." Noah, who knew this, rolled his eyes and leaned his elbow on the counter right next to the fridge. Rachel leaned her chin on her hand and let out twinkling laughter. (Anyone who knew Rachel knew that was her normal laugh. Stefano did not know Rachel, and therefore took is as a definite sign she was interested.)   

"I'm sure it is. No one believes in erotic ancient dance."   

Stefano smiled with half of his mouth and took a sip of his tea. It burned his whole mouth, but he powered through it. "So, what are you doing later?" he asked and set the mug down. Rachel suddenly realized what had been going on and felt instantly embarrassed.   

"Oh, well, tonight? I'm spending time with Abby."   

"Tomorrow then?"   

"You know little siblings, they always want to be played with!" Rachel insisted and grabbed her bowl. She stood up and pushed the chair back in loudly. "Gee, is that the time? I have—um—a Skype interview. Or something. Pleasure, Stefano." She rushed from the room, avoiding eye-contact with Noah like the plague.    

Noah, who felt blessed to have been able to witness that, leaned his forearms on the counter closest to Stefano (who looked bewildered and like he wasn't used to being rejected) and set down his cereal. "She likes girls," he informed the older boy with a matter of fact crunch of Cheerios. Stefano made an exasperated noise in response.   

Barry happily walked into the room, dressed for a run and looking refreshed. He observed both Noah and Stefano's expressions and paused his gait. "What happened?"   

With cereal in his mouth, Noah informed with an amused smile, "Stefano's neverending charm failed to turn a lesbian."   

"I missed that?" Barry asked and groaned, looking genuinely disappointed.    

Noah put his bowl in the sink and wiped his hands on his shorts. "Unfortunately." He came around into the dining room. "You ready?" Noah had never worn a shirt on these morning runs (he hated the feeling of fabric sticking to his skin) but he noticed Barry blatantly staring at his chest and suddenly felt uncomfortable. He went to the door and slipped his shoes on, hoping Barry wouldn't see his blush.    

Stefano, predictably and annoyingly, came over and put his running shoes on also. With a sigh (from Barry and Noah), the three set out on their morning run. Stefano chatted away about this or that, and Noah brooded silently about how Stefano could waste so much breath while still keeping pace. Barry hung behind Stefano and Noah a bit because he was slower and also because he couldn't stand to hear Stefano speak about his job any more than he absolutely had to.    

At the end of the run, Noah and Barry skipped down onto the beach to go for a swim. This was usually when Stefano left them. "I'm gonna swim with you guys today, I hope you don't mind," he announced and walked with them onto the warm sand.    

"We do mind," Barry countered. Nothing could sour his mood like his big brother.    

"Ah, come on, _hermano_. I won't slow you down. You guys do your thing, I'll just do mine."   

"Could you do your thing, like, two hundred yards away from me?" Barry countered. His voice rose, and Noah could tell the next sentences of the newly escalated argument would continue in Spanish, and would probably be very rude.   

Noah cut in, "It's okay, Barry. He can swim with us."    

Stefano smirked at Barry's glare. " _¿_ _Por_ _qué_ _no_ _puedes_ _ser_ _tan_ _amable_ _conmigo_ _como_ _su_ _novio_ _es_ _?_ "   

Barry angrily retorted, " _¿_ _Por_ _qué_ _no_ _puede_ _ocuparse_ _de_ _sus_ _asuntos_ _puto_ _?_ "   

"It would be rude to Noah to refuse, _¿_ _verdad_ _?_ "    

Barry huffed and tossed his shoes down. He yanked his goggles from his back pocket and ran into the lake. Noah looked from Barry's retreating figure to Stefano with a questioning look. Stefano just smiled innocently and followed his brother in the water. Noah knew he should have paid more attention in Spanish class.   

—   

Noah felt like he was committing a crime. Barry had him pressed against the wall in the garage that was right next to the door that led straight into the living room where his parents and Abby were having lunch. Barry's knee was wedged between Noah's legs, his mouth was on Noah's neck, and his hands wandered Noah's body. Noah had his fist over his mouth and was biting his knuckles to muffle the gasps and moans that escaped him. They were supposed to be locating all of Noah's old CDs for Rachel, but instead Noah was cupping the back of Barry's neck and encouraging his movements with soft and needy whimpers.    

They hadn't done anything that couldn't be in a PG-13 movie, and they had done those things so few times they could have all been included in said movie without it being overwhelming. Noah just felt like he was being raunchy because a) he'd never made out with someone like this before, and b) almost every single time he was making out with Barry, his family was less than ten feet away. Noah pulled Barry's hair so his lips separated from the sizeable hickey that had formed on his shoulder and kissed him, putting his tongue in Barry's mouth and his newly freed hand on Barry's butt.   

After a moment, Noah broke the kiss and pressed their foreheads together. "We should probably look for the CDs," he said and licked his lips. Barry whined and gave Noah's mouth a short kiss.    

"We can just grab them when we're done. Say we had to look all over because we had no idea where they were." He kissed Noah again, and Noah leaned into it for a second before leaning away again.   

"That's just it: we _do_ have no idea where they are."   

"I thought you said you had it covered!" Barry softly exclaimed and stepped back, surveying the messy garage with a groan.   

"I thought I did!" Noah defended. "But then as I stood here and really considered it, I realized I had no idea where they are."   

"You mean you were thinking about CDs the whole time?" Barry asked, incredulous.   

"What? Are you jealous?" Noah teased and pushed himself off of the wall. He slapped Barry's butt as he moved passed him to open a random box.   

"I might be!" Barry laughed and opened a box himself.   

After about ten minutes, Barry opened a box that was filled to the brim with CDs. "Aha!" He hoisted the box off of the stack and put it on the floor. Noah sighed with relief and dropped the box he was holding onto a nearby stack.   

"Thank God."   

"How long have we been out here?" Barry asked and walked backwards toward a sheet-covered sofa they had stashed out there. Noah looked at his watch.   

"About twenty minutes."   

"Wow, this is such a large garage. It would take so long to search it, don't you think?" Barry teased with a grin and grabbed Noah's hand as he sat onto the sofa. Noah put his knee on Barry's thigh.    

"As much as I would like to continue, they are going to get suspicious and come look for us."   

"C'mon, we're doing a good deed. For Rachel. They won't question it."   

"That's just it," Noah replied and walked his fingers across Barry's shoulder. "I know Rachel, and she's going to walk in here any minute to check—"   

At that moment, the garage door burst open and Rachel stepped in. Noah sprung away from Barry and busied himself with kicking closed the flap of the CD box while simultaneously opening another box to look occupied.   

" _What_ is taking you two so long?" Rachel demanded and put a hand on her hip. She skimmed over the state of the garage. "Hello, Barry, I see you're being useful, as always," she commented when she saw him lounging on the cushions. Barry saluted her.    

"You shouldn't be so impatient, Rach. You could have looked yourself." He flipped open another box and then pretended to discover the correct box where it was on the floor. "There we go. All of them. Right there. Do you want your slaves to carry it inside for you?" Noah asked sarcastically. Rachel stuck her tongue out and picked up the box herself.    

"Margarita made fruit salad, and she wants you two to have a bowl," she informed them as she left. Noah sighed in relief and leaned against an abandoned table.    

"That's the fifth fruit salad my mom has made since she got here," Barry complained and got up. "She needs a new hobby."   

"Some people like your mom's fruit salads," Noah countered and stuck his tongue out at his best friend as he followed his sister back into the house.   

—  

Noah's plans for the Fourth of July were the following: he was going to get shitfaced and watch the fireworks with Barry while expertly avoiding the scrutinizing gaze of the ever-present police. Instead, Noah's mom limited him to two Mike's Hard Lemonades (which had to be finished before seven o'clock) and forced him to stay home during the fireworks show and comfort Abby, who was afraid of the loud noises. He barely got a peek at the display through the tightly shut blinds in his bedroom.  

Barry, on the other hand, was an insensitive bastard and got shitfaced.  

That left Noah to sit on the dock alone with Stefano the following morning, forced to hear the older man speak completely sober.  

"She's just so beautiful, _muchacho_ , and it's just so effortless," Stefano rambled, tracing patterns into the water with his bare toe. He often called Noah _muchacho_ when he was in a good mood. Noah had no idea what it meant, he assumed something like a macho man or something. "And her name, it's like _la pornografía_ _, que es demasiado bueno en la lengua_." Stefano formed a loose fist with his hands and let out a small moan of satisfaction. With his eyes closed, Stefano murmured, "Sofía Rosales."  

Noah sat next to Barry's big brother, his forearms rested on his thighs and his legs hanging off the edge of the dock. He rolled his eyes in exasperation. "You were flirting with Rachel, like, two days ago, and now you are head over heels for another woman?" he whistled in contempt.  

"It was not two days ago, more like a week and a half, for your information," Stefano retorted, his tone clipped, "and I know when my love is not desired."  

"So you got women all figured out," Noah snapped his fingers, "just like that?" He combed through a few tangles in his bangs with his fingers. "Wow! Guys come and line up!" Noah announced, his tone heavily laced with sarcasm, "Stefano Whelk has the best woman advice!"  

"Moreno," Stefano corrected.  

"What?"  

"My name is Stefano _Moreno_. I hate 'Whelk.' I had it changed a few years back, and if Barry has any sense, he'll change his too."  

Noah clicked his tongue. "Yeah, but 'Barrington Whelk' has a nice ring to it."  

"Yeah," Stefano snorted, "for a sixty-five year old, white investment banker." Noah turned and faced Stefano with a more-vicious-than-playful glare.  

"At least it doesn't rhyme like a fucking kindergarten teacher's name in a before-school cartoon."  

Stefano exhaled angrily through his nose. "I hate you," he told Noah.  

"The feeling's mutual," Noah responded in a sassy tone and fell back so he was lying on the wooden deck. The two sat in a stubborn silence.   

Several minutes later, Barry came clacking down the dock in a pair of his mom's flip flops. "Cowboy!" he called with a big wave. Noah raised a hand dejectedly in response. "And Stef," he greeted his brother a beat later.   

" _Hermanito_ ," Stefano responded with a slightly clenched jaw. When Barry got close enough, he fell into a push-up position and planted a sloppy kiss on Noah's nose that mostly consisted of Noah's entire nose going into Barry's mouth. Noah gasped a surprised, "Oh!" And wiped his nose off when Barry returned back to his feet in one swift motion.   

"Let's swim!" he hollered.  

"Bear, are you"—Noah rubbed his nose more—"still drunk?" Barry froze, and spent a moment thinking. Noah looked up at him paciently.  

"Yes," Barry finally responded.   

"Your boyfriend was still going hard at three AM," Stefano pitched in and stood up. He took his shirt off and slipped his feet from his sneakers.   

Noah's head swung to look at Stefano. "Oh no, we're not—"  

"Exclusive," Barry chimed with a giddy hiccup. Noah groaned, sat up, and, in the same motion, shoved Barry off of the dock and into the frigid lake. Barry surfaced with grace and squirted water at Noah from his hand. " _¡Mi amor, el lago es_ _magn_ _ífico!_ " He reached and grabbed Noah's ankle and pulled his best friend into the water (Noah hit his knuckles and his head on the dock on his way down).  

"You two are disgusting," Stefano muttered and took a running leap into the lake.  

—   

Basically the moment Barry pulled Noah in for a sloppy kiss in front of Stefano, their secret was out. Even Melissa was texting Noah about it by the end of the day. Oddly, no one was surprised that Barry had gotten himself into a gay relationship, because apparently wide promiscuity with amazing amounts of women was a preemonition for bisexuality, but Noah only having one girlfriend and barely ever showing her any physical affection was no indication that Noah Czerny could ever like men.  

The discovery, as a result, led to an extremely embarrassing and uncomfortable day, which ended with Rachel propping herself up on her elbow, leaning over Abby's sleeping figure, and questioning Noah like he was a convict of some sort in the dead of night. They argued in harsh whispers, though trying to keep as quiet as possible so as to not wake Abby. (Abby was nine years younger than Noah and twelve years younger than Rachel, and thus her two older siblings were fiercely protective of her, often to the point of arguments.)   

"You're _sure_ you haven't done any funky business in the bed you're sharing with your _sisters_?" Rachel questioned in an impressively accusatory whisper.  

"Yes!" Noah hissed, "and even if I had, you don't need to know!"  

"Really? I don't need to know what happens in a bed I sleep in every night?"  

"It's _my_ house, Rach! I don't have to _ask_ _permission_ to do things in it! Aside from the fact I'm a grown ass man!"   

"Well, we're here, whether you like it or not, in _your_ house, so I have the right to—"  

"You're not entitled to anything! I don't see any of you paying rent!"  

"Paying rent?" Rachel was incredulous; her voice rose slightly, "we are your _family_ , Noah!"  

"Maybe if you weren't you'd have some respect—"  

"Why are you two fighting?" Abby asked in a tired voice. She shifted and blinked her eyes open to gaze at Noah.   

"We're not, sweetie," Rachel cooed and rubbed Abby's back whilst delivering a vicious glare to Noah.   

"Go back to sleep," Noah urged sweetly and gave his little sister a loving smile while simultaneously (and covertly) flipping Rachel off. Abby readjusted and quickly dozed off again. Noah and Rachel laid in brooding silence until they were both sure she was asleep. They both exploded at the same time, but Rachel cut Noah off with a very harsh, "You're un _believe_ able!"  

— 

To Noah's immense relief, their families moved out three weeks later. It was quite a scuffle getting everyone out of the house (Stefano insisted he would love to stay and make the office into his bedroom, but his mom lectured him in Spanish and told him not to be ungrateful, and he had a fully furnished bedroom to himself in their other house), but Noah and Barry had successful pushed (literally) everyone out of their humble abode by nine-thirty. The large family house they were all moving to was finally renovated and ready, and the CDA Crossing was in fifteen days, so Noah and Barry needed to be serious and uninterrupted with their training. 

"Want to get drunk?" Noah asked as soon as the procession of vehicles turned the corner onto the next block. Barry pulled a bottle of Grey Goose out of a stash at the bottom of the pantry.  

"Way ahead of you." Noah released a small burst of giggles and hopped onto the countertop. He swung his legs around so he was facing inside of the kitchen, where Barry was standing. Barry walked forward and leaned his hips against the counter. Noah locked his ankles around Barry's waist. Barry put the bottle on the counter next to Noah and leaned up to join their lips in a soft kiss. Noah cupped the back of his best friend's head and deepened the kiss for a moment, but shortly pulled back. 

"Not like this isn't nice or anything, but I really need to be drunk," Noah informed with a smile and grabbed the bottle by the neck. He screwed off the top and took a long swig from the full bottle. He choked when the alcohol burned the back of his throat and screwed his face up. "That hits the spot," he croaked. Barry laughed at him and got two glasses and a lime from the refrigerator.  

"What has instigated this vodka therapy?" Barry asked and swung up on the counter next to Noah. 

"You think Stefano is bad? Try sleeping in the same bed as Rachel," Noah complained. He spread his legs and opened the drawer between them and produced a knife. He turned and started to slide the lime into wedges.  

"What'd she do?" Barry asked and poured a generous amount of alcohol in each glass.  

"She's just," Noah paused and grabbed a glass, "unbearable." (While Abby was taking a shower, Rachel laid on the bed next to Noah. "So have you two done the do at all?" Noah turned his head toward her with an exasperated noise. "Would it kill you to ever say sex? How many weird substitutes do you have?" "Just answer the question, No-boy." Noah rolled his eyes and put his hands behind his head. "No. I haven't even taken my pants off in front of him." "That's a lie," Rachel interjected with a snort. "Okay, yeah, but not. . . sexually." Rachel laughed. "You can't sexually take pants off unless you're stripping." Noah tore the pillow from underneath his head and threw it at his big sister. "You know what I mean!" Rachel hit him with the pillow and laughed at him more.) 

"I like Rachel," Barry said and sipped the vodka. "She's weird and funny. Like you." 

"Whose side are you _on_?" Noah groaned and kicked Barry's leg.  

"Yours, of course," Barry cooed and leaned to kiss Noah's jaw. Noah smiled and clinked their glasses.  

"Drink up." 

With Noah's determination, it didn't take long for the two of them to get drunk. They sat in the middle of the living room. Barry's legs were straight and spread wide, and Noah sat cross-legged. They had playing cards between them and cards in their hands. They were playing a double-deck game of Slap Jack. Noah put down a card and slammed his hand down. Barry's fingers slapped Noah's forearm and immediately left a red welt. Noah seemed immune. He collected the large stack with drunk, ecstatic laughter. "Strip, loser!" he yelled.  

Barry, who was already missing both socks and his t-shirt, wiggled out of his shorts. Noah finished shuffling his cards and set one down in a gluttonous manner. He was only missing his socks. Barry, grumbling, added a seven, making a double. Noah slapped it and declared, "I win!" 

After pulling his legs in to get more traction, Barry launched himself over the center divide and tackled Noah. Playing cards flew in the air and rained down on them. Noah wrapped his legs around Barry's waist and slammed their mouths together in a messy kiss. Their teeth collided, causing them to separate and gasp in pain. Barry leaned in and took Noah's bottom lip between his teeth, and Noah took a handful of Barry's curly hair and tugged. Barry moved his mouth down Noah's neck and nibbled and kissed the bare skin.  

"There's a coaster in my spine," Noah gasped and put one of his hands between them and pushed Barry's bare torso off of him. He rolled over underneath the older boy and squiggled out from underneath him. He crawled away, laughing, and then stood up. He grabbed the mostly empty bottle off of the kitchen counter and took a drink from it. He turned and made eye contact with Barry before slipping into the latter's bedroom.  

Barry came in shortly after Noah and put his hands under Noah's shirt. He slipped the garment up and over Noah's head from behind and kissed the base of Noah's neck. Noah took Barry's hands in his and laced his fingers through Barry's. He put their joined hands on his stomach and leaned his head back when Barry scraped his teeth across the line of Noah's carotid artery. 

"So. . . what are we calling this?" Noah asked. His mind was fuzzy with alcohol and the only concrete thing he could focus on was Barry's mouth on his shoulder. 

"Love," Barry answered plainly and turned Noah around. Noah blushed from his cheeks to his chest and lost his footing. He stumbled and ended up sitting on the bed.  

"No, I mean, are we more boyfriends or more friends with benefits?" He asked and leaned forward to place his mouth on Barry's toned abdomen. He traced his tongue through the dips and curves of the muscles. He gripped Barry's hip and simultaneously scooted back on the bed and pulled Barry into his lap. Barry unbuttoned Noah's jeans and yanked them down onto the younger boy's thighs. Noah did his best to kick them most of the way off. 

"I'm too drunk to answer that," Barry replied honestly. His knee slipped and their crotches rubbed against each other. Noah was too drunk to even think about an erection until that point. He murmured, "Fuck," and Barry choked on a moan. Noah wrapped a strong arm around Barry's waist and simulated the movement again, kissing Barry's swollen lips hungrily and sloppily.  He squeezed his eyes shut in pleasure and wished he hadn't had to much vodka. 

Barry leaned forward, causing Noah's back to fall on the soft mattress. ""Barry," he whispered when their lips separated when the mattress bounced. Barry moved his hands down to the waistband on Noah's briefs. "Barry, not tonight, I'm too. . ." Barry sighed and rolled so he was lying beside Noah. "You know, it's embarrassing, the alcohol—" 

"I know," he responded and turned on his side, facing Noah. He extended his arm forward and little bit, and Noah scooted so his head was pillowed in the curve of Barry's elbow. He curled his legs up so they weren't hanging off of the edge of the bed and closed his eyes.  

"I can't believe you got drunk on the Fourth of July without me," Noah accused good-naturedly.  

"Couldn't resist." 

"I hate you." 

"I love you too, Cowboy." Barry lifted his chin so the endearment was murmured into Noah's messy hair. 

— 

There was a point in their routine run where they went up and down the wooden stairs that led to the rustic beach. On either the third or fourth round, Noah would decide to go down a staircase, run on the beach, and then go up the next one. This was Barry's least favorite part. Noah loved it, presumably because it was torture for his best friend. Barry had realized many times that he could just not go down the stairs and just continue running on the trail, but that was admitting and giving into weakness. Barry was a lot of things, but he was no quitter. 

As he heaved and gasped his way down the old wooden stairs, a considerable distance behind Noah, the jostling of his head induced another in a series of hangover headaches. Because of their late night, they were running closer to lunch time as opposed to before breakfast, but Noah was powering on as if he hadn't drank half a bottle of Grey Goose the night before.  

Noah drank three gallons of water a day (hardly an exaggeration) and liquids moved straight through him. As a result, alcohol left Noah's system almost as soon as it entered. This gave Noah minimal hangovers usually treated by only one Excedrin Migraine. Barry preferred protein shakes and Gatorade to water, and didn't drink as much as he knew he should anyway. Every time Noah enticed him into getting hammered he cursed himself for this lackadaisical approach to his health, yet he never changed.  

Barry's feet hit the soft surface of sand, and he turned left to follow Noah. He saw his best friend turn and go up the next staircase, sweat shining off of his bare back. Barry licked the sweat off of his top lip and urged his legs to move faster (they didn't listen).  

Up ahead, he saw Noah turn his head and watch a (male) jogger run in the opposite direction. Barry's face turned red with jealousy that was (for the most part) unfounded. Against the screaming of his muscles, he sped up and raced up the steps (he almost slipped and broke his face on the sandy surface). Noah had stopped underneath a tree to wait. 

"Boyfriends," Barry blurted when he barreled under the tree that was also sheltering Noah. 

"Wha— _jesus_ , Barry, you smell disgusting. Is your sweat even sweat or just pure vodka?" 

Barry was bewildered. "You stink too!" he retorted. 

"Not as badly as you do, I pee most of it out like a respectable person."  

Barry sputtered. "Did you hear what I said? We're boyfriends, not friends with benefits, okay? I love you and I want to be the only one who does." He felt really embarrassed, but also like a valiant knight or something cheesy and noble. He stepped forward with the intent of giving Noah a kiss. Noah stepped back. 

"That's really sweet and everything, but do not get any closer to me. Whew." Noah wrinkled his nose. 

"You're an asshole," Barry stated, raised his eyebrows, and shook his head. 

"You smell like a distillery," Noah responded in the same blunt and offended tone and turned. He began running again.  

— 

"Hey, Bear," Noah asked nonchalantly, "what does ' _muchacho_ ' mean?" They were lying on the dock after a long swim. Noah had finally managed to swim the full two point four miles, albeit a few stops. His muscles felt like they were about to combust. The race was in a week and he felt grossly unprepared. 

"Boy," Barry responded without looking at Noah. "Why?" His chest was heaving, and one of his legs and a hand were still hanging off of the dock and brushing the gentle waves of the lake. 

"Boy?" Noah repeated softly and incredulously. "I'm only a year younger than him, and he calls me _boy_?!" 

"Who calls you that?" Barry asked. 

"Boy," Noah muttered again. 

"Stefano? Does Stefano call you _muchacho_?" Barry asked then let out a short, breathless guffaw. 

"Why is that funny?" Noah's cheeks were pink with embarrassment, though he wasn't sure why he was embarrassed. 

After some more laughter, Barry responded, "Sorry, it's just most of the time Stefano reminds me of a pedophilic uncle with an open Hawai'ian shirt that shows his gross chest hair." He burst out laughing again. Noah, with that new mental image, laughed with him. 

Noah's laughter turned into breathless coughing and he sat up. "Do you want to get floaties and play?" he asked with a smile and nudged Barry's arm with his toes.  

"If by play, you mean lie on a floatie and go where the waves take me, then yes," Barry responded and began the long process of standing up. 

It took a couple of hours, but eventually the pair were on the beach next to the dock holding large floaties. They found them in the garage of their house, presumably from years before. Barry was holding a turtle, and Noah a plain circular tube. They were fully blown up and scorching in the sun. Noah tossed his into the water. "I always hate getting on top of these things," he complained. He walked into the frigid waves, trying to avoid the pointy rocks on the bottom of the lake, and went over to the tube. He held onto the handles and flopped backwards, trying to aim his butt so it landed in the center hole. 

Much to Barry's amusement, he missed. Noah bounced off of the side and landed in the water. Barry laughed and held the turtle out in front of himself and jogged toward the lake. Once he was in deep enough, he jumped with the floatie. It landed effortlessly in the water, and Barry effortlessly on top of it. Noah scoffed and swept wet, blonde hair from his eyes and spent the next five minutes wrestling with the tube before eventually lying on his stomach across the top. He paddled over to Barry and splashed the later with water. 

Barry splashed him back. The splashing (naturally) elevated to a full-blown water battle, of which Noah was winning until he fell off of the tube. Kindly, Barry helped Noah back on as best as he could. Noah held onto Barry's turtle and they peacefully began to float. 

"The Crossing is soon," Barry remarked. He was feeling calm and pleasant.  

"Let's not talk about the Crossing." 

"Fine. What do you think it will be like in Henrietta, when we get back? Mel has certainly told everyone and held a rainbow-themed party in our honor by this point." 

Noah laughed. "I dunno, weird, I guess." He shifted his head so he was looking up at Barry. "That doesn't give you permission to kiss me in public, though." 

"Yeah, what's your deal with that, anyway? Are you ashamed of me?" Barry asked, feigning offense. 

Noah stuck out his tongue. "There are children everywhere, and if you try now," Noah started, because Barry had started shifting to that intent, "you'll knock us both off our floaties." 

Barry stopped and went back to his original position after a pause. "True." They floated silently for a few minutes. "I love you." 

"Love you too, _muchacho_ ," Noah teased and laughed. Barry snorted so violently he fell off of the turtle. 

— 

Regardless of their preparation status, they were competing that day. 

August fifteenth snuck up on them faster than they thought it would, faster than it had years before. To be fair, they weren't in a relationship years before, and they didn't have to deal with their families' antics for as long years before, but August fifteenth seemed to sneak up on them all the same.  

Regardless of their preparation standards, they were ready.  

Noah liked to do the whole race in sections, then fully before the race day, but unfortunately he only had time to do it in sections. That was okay, though, because he knew the race by heart. He knew what he had to do, and he knew how he was going to do it. Barry was always ready. Like a character in a book Noah once read, Barry could do anything if he set his mind to it, no physical preparation necessary. (Of course Barry almost always physically prepared, because he felt empty and pretentious if he didn't.) 

Regardless of their preparation methods, they were focused. 

True, only the night before had Noah officially lost his virginity, through Barry's constant (and embarrassing) (for both of them) assurances that his ass would be fine for racing the next day (did Noah mention how fond he was of Barry's ass?). Either one of them could have been thinking about _that_ , but both of them were thinking about the race. They were athletes before boyfriends, and the race was accredited to their school for earning medals and credits and seniority.  

They were Barry and Noah. Whelk-Moreno and Czerny. Inseparable, unstoppable, unbeatable.    

Barry stretched his Aglionby cap over his dark, curly hair. He helped Noah mount his own upon his head. Both felt at ease, this was where they belonged. The Coeur d'Alene Crossing was about to begin. 

Their families watched with proud smiles and rambunctious cheers. 

Vicarious.  

 

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: all places and events depicted in this fic are real.  
> \- yes, there really are wooden poles that stick up out of the water (they separate where people go vs boats) and yes, people really do jump off of them.  
> \- there are beach houses on CDA lake, tho they aren't actually on the beach. basically every house in CDA is a beach house.  
> \- here [https://youtu.be/UMMTz-FqGv0] is a vid from the 2015 CDA crossing. note: the dock in the vid is not the same one they hang out at!!
> 
> things in this fic that are not cannon but should be:  
> \- whelk is biracial (latinx/white)  
> \- whelk's big brother stefano  
> \- noah being the middle child (cannonly he is the oldest, but that doesn't suit him at all so i changed it)  
> \- noah's sister's names are supposed to be adele and ??? but rachel and abby are 100000000x better
> 
> lastly, this is very much a gift for ella and the rest of the czelk hell club: trini, sparrow, rosie, and rachel, who helped shape the fic with their Amazing headcannons. this is our brainchild.
> 
> also an extra special thanks to my betas, manda and rosie!!!


End file.
